The Unthinkable Offering (A Loki FanFic)

The First Tastes

"I will do it."

"I believe you have made the right decision. This is the right choice, you will see." The King nodded, "I will have your apartment prepared for your arrival. In the meantime," he motioned to a guard, "you will be escorted to the healing rooms. I want you in the soul forge and to submit to a thorough medical examination."

Loki practically jumped up from where he was seated on the bed, "Right now? Today?"

"I see no reason to delay. If you comply with the healers, I will arrange for your companionship. Do you have a preference?"

Loki gaped as he watched the guard drop the barrier to his cell and motion for him to step out. He stood staring into the corridor, the casualty of the act baffling him. He had not moved beyond this small space in over one hundred years.

"Loki?" 

Loki took his first tentative step out of the cell. "A bit of both." He finally answered.

"Very well. I am off. I will send for you sometime tomorrow once I have looked over your medical report. Sleep well, son."

"Your Highness, right this way." A second guard flanked Loki to lead him to the healing rooms.

Your Highness.

Hearing his old moniker startled him. For over a hundred years, Loki had only been addressed as 'inmate' by the guards. Even his mind healers called him by his familiar name.

The ascent out of the dungeon was a long one. The prison was so deep beneath the ground air had to be pumped in from the surface. There were no windows, obviously, so the only measurement of time Loki had was the delivery of food to his cell. Porridge for breakfast, thin meat sandwich for lunch. For dinner, a small bowl of gristly stew with a chunk of hard bread. Day after day, year after year. There was no deviation. He had not had fresh fruit or vegetables since he was imprisoned, and each day he was provided with one large pitcher of water for drinking. No tea, no coffee, no juice.

His journals were the only things he had that he could use to keep track of the years. Every day was the same. There were no special meals for Solstice or Yule. Birthdays were not celebrated or even acknowledged. But Loki kept track of the days, months, and years on paper, so he knew he had been imprisoned in that cell alone for one hundred twelve years, four months, and seventeen days.

When they reached the main floor of the palace, Loki froze in place; he held up his hand to shield his eyes, the bright sun streaming in through the tall windows momentarily blinding him. He stood there and waited for his eyes to adjust, taking in the sounds and scents of the palace. His nostrils flared, and he inhaled deeply, never realizing what a potently distinct smell it had. He could smell the polish used to shine the marble columns, the cleaner used to mop the floors, the metal, the wood, and the plaster. It was overwhelming.

"This way, Your Highness."

"I-I just need a moment." He was trying not to get emotional, but he had not been prepared for just how moved he would be to walk these halls again. A simple thing like seeing daylight was awe-inspiring.

"Take your time, sir."

He took a few deep breaths and steadied himself, running a hand down his chest to his stomach, he realized just how shabby his attire was. He suddenly felt very out of place in his own home.

"I have gotten my bearings now. We may continue onward." He tried not to look like a gawking tourist as they made their way through the palace. The bright colors of the art and murals on the walls and ceiling seemed more vibrant than he remembered.

Loki had been through every inch of this palace more times than he could count, but today he felt like he was seeing it for the first time.

oOXOo