Chapter Text
Loki’s punishment for his crimes against Midgard was not, in the end, Odin’s decision, no matter how much the King of Asgard wanted to lock him beneath Yggdrasil for eternity. It was the Norns themselves who graced Valhalla’s golden halls to sentence him, for once they had decided to come no being in the universe could stop them.
So when Loki was brought before Odin in chains, their biting conversation, their “little talk,” lasted but a moment before Odin sat back down on his throne, and gestured to a guard by the side entrance. “You are alive now only because of Frigga, and were it up to me you would rot in our dungeons for a thousand years.”
A smirk remained plastered to Loki’s face; he would never show how much he hated this man, how much he loved him. Only Frigga new, if anyone, and now he would be denied her. If it had been up to Loki, Odin would have been dead at his feet. But fate- literally- seemed to have other plans.
“We welcome the greatest of the Norns; Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld, to our hall,” Odin declared as a guard ushered in three women robed in green; the color of life, and decay.
Their bare feet made no sound as they passed before Odin’s throne to stand in front of Loki, who was shoved to his knees in their presence. Beneath each hood was a face that, on Midgard, would inspire many a great artist or poet, but here they were not things of beauty. The red string the last wove compulsively around her fingers kept all at bay, even Odin, who shifted back uncomfortably in his throne. Only Frigga and Loki did not react to their presence.
The first Norn, Skuld, whose red hair curled and flowed like fire around her face, spoke in a voice like the winter wind rattling through bones.
“We have seen your fate in the stars, and blood of the earth, and it is not to suffer your father’s wrath.”
“He is not my father,” Loki spat. Grungir slammed on stone, Odin’s eyes silencing Loki from his throne.
“Show respect to those who hold your life in their hands!” he barked, inspiring another derisive snort from Loki.
“I am not your son, so why age yourself over my manners, Allfather?”
“That is enough, Laufeyson.” At the end of the row, Verdandi stopped wrapping the red string. It hung still as she regarded Loki with eyes as white as crystals shining in a black cave. “We come here to sentence you, not to hear your petty quarrels.”
“Then sentence me!” he snapped, surging forward until he was forcibly driven back to his knees, chains clanging. He did not notice how Frigga’s jaw clamped at the guards’ rough treatment.
“In due time, Laufeyson. First, a prologue to your punishment,” Verdandi cackled.
And then it was the last, the middle sister’s turn. Stepping forward, she reached one hand the color of burnished leather to brush against his jaw, fingertips settling below his chin, ensuring that he met her eyes. He recoiled as if stung, but the guards’ strong hands kept him in place.
“Loki…” Urd sighed mournfully, tears welling in her eyes. “Ah, Loki, who once burned so bright, He Who Would Be King… how far you have fallen.”
Loki didn’t meet her eyes.
“Magician, son, brother, Jotunn, Aesir, scholar, artist, architect, beloved; so many titles for one being. You were better before you tried adding ‘king’ to that list.”
“Do you have a point, witch, or will you name me to my death?” If anything, his comment only made Urd sadder.
“Fate has smiled on you, Loki; we have loved you. Now you are cast out of our favor as well, and will suffer for the lives you dared took on Midgard. Skuld, weave him his fate.” When her touch was withdrawn, it was like a cloud passing before the sun, and a shadow seemed to fall more heavily on Loki’s features. Urd turned and clasped hands with Verdandi as Skuld took the red string from her sister and threw it across the floor where it spilled like entrails.
“The lives of your people are long in years, and slow in wisdom. You have squandered this gift of longevity, abused your powers granted by birth, and destroyed the lives of too many to forgive with merely a dungeon cell. Loki Laufeyson, child of Odin Allfather and Frigga, our punishment is thus.” With a wave of her hand Skuld jerked the string into the air, where it twisted in and around itself until it formed a small, ornate web somewhere between a nest and a box.
With lightning speed and before Loki could jerk away, Skuld’s hands were clasping the sides of his face, fingers spread out like probing spiders as she cocked her head and regarded his regal expression.
“To re-live the lives of the Midgardians you killed would destroy you, something we cannot do as long as we love our sister, but you must learn what true suffering is, what it is like to fear death; and experience it. You must also understand life and the value it holds within the fabric of the universe. Both to punish, and to teach, we sentence your soul to life on Midgard, where it will manifest itself in however many lives, for however many years and however many centuries, it takes for you to understand. Your body shall remain here, entombed, as you serve your sentence.” Odin’s face was expressionless, but a small cry let loose from Frigga’s lips when she heard the punishment. Before she could do anything, and Loki could do more than cast her one last, pleading glance, Skuld had inhaled so deeply that it ripped his soul from his body.
Immediately his physical form collapsed as if in a coma, pale skin slowly turning blue and covering itself with Jotunn markings as his body, without a magician’s soul to sustain the glamour, reverted to its true form. Meanwhile, Skuld tucked his soul- Frigga could only see a faint, ruffling something within the Norn’s clasped hands, and could have sworn she heart chirping- within the red-string net.
“This is cruel, even for you three,” Frigga murmured, daring to meet Urd’s eyes. The Norn, seer of the past, was openly weeping, while Verdandi beside her looked furious, and Skuld’s face was positively serene.
“It is what is best for him,” Urd replied. “We have seen it.”
“And have you also seen how long it will keep him from his family?” Frigga snapped, ignoring Odin’s look.
“However long it takes, Asgardian Queen!” Verdandi hissed, eyes pale and peering, unnerving.
Then Frigga noticed Skuld holding the box containing Loki’s soul close to her lips, murmuring softly, almost lovingly, before throwing it into the air, where it disappeared. It was as if a light had gone out in the world; Frigga could feel the room go cold, and looked at her son’s empty body. It was good that he could not see himself; he would have been horrified by how weak, how different he looked. It was all she could do not to let her wrath fall upon the Norns, but they were too powerful, and wise even beyond her. She had to trust them, and hope, and yell at Odin later for not telling her that they were coming.
“It is done,” Skuld whispered joyfully. “His soul has begun its journey on Midgard; watch carefully, queen, for each life may be his last. There is no telling now when, or if, he will return.”
“Where have you taken him?” Frigga demanded, striding forward. “Where is my son?”
“In Midgard’s past, waiting.”
“Your gatekeeper can see him even now, queen. Go to Heimdall, and you may watch your son,” Urd offered.
With one last threatening look at the sisters, and one of poison at Odin, promising him hell later, Frigga whirled and vanished from the hall, dress trailing behind her out the door as she called for the guards to summon Heimdall.
In the hall Odin watched the three Norns carefully as they lay out Loki’s body, hands on his chest, hair brushed from his blue face. His heart was a tumult of emotions, but there was one that he could sense as clearly as a spear in his side; regret.
“Allfather.” The soft voice brought him out of himself, and Odin looked down to see the tearful Norn, Urd, looking up at him. “My sisters and I shall take his body to the vaults of your ancestors; there the magic will preserve him, and we shall work our craft to prepare him for regaining his soul.”
Odin nodded, and the sisters vanished from the hall, along with his son’s body. Remembering Frigga’s look at him before she left, Odin sighed; what have I just done?