The prisons in Asgard were meant to be dreadful. Asgard was a place of warmth and promise—the prisons were cold and unpleasant. Clearly, they never planned on holding a Frost Giant there—after all the son of Laufey was their current captive. Loki sat on a slab of rock gazing out into the open space surrounding his little island. The Bifröst was closed, and wouldn’t open unless Odin or Thor decided to pay Loki a visit—which they often did. Loki dreaded these visits, for they were simple reminders of why he had ended up in this cell, all because Odin thought he could use him as a bargaining chip.

He had been waiting for what felt like decades for them to come up with a reasonable punishment for someone such as he. A punishment fit for a king, he liked to think. After all, he was the rightful king of Asgard—Thor didn’t deserve such responsibility, and yet he sat at Loki’s throne, and commanded Loki’s people.

The subtle shift in air and temperature woke him up to a familiar presence. He turned and found his brother strutting toward him on the newly built Bifröst. He admired his brother for a moment, hating him for the way he held himself. For that pride and that crown on his head. That was his crown, and the sharp memory of that betrayal hit him like the hand of his ‘father’.

“Loki,” Thor spoke and his voice echoed everywhere. He stopped as he passed the prison’s barriers and stood mere inches away from his brother.

“Brother,” Loki murmured tiredly, forcing himself to stand and face Thor. “Have you finally found a punishment suitable for me? Or have you just come to gloat?”

Loki flaunted his grin as he watched his brother absorb his insults and relished in his pain. “Neither. I’ve brought you a gift.”

“A gift?” Disbelief colored his voice as his brother pulled a long, oval object out of thin air. He threw it out into open air and it struck something solid and righted itself, taking form. Loki stepped toward the object and saw he—blue eyes and pain creasing his brow. He quickly righted that expression and forced it into something cold, something cruel and uncaring. “What is this?”

“It’s a mirror. It allows you to watch anyone you would like, father thought it might give you some perspective.”

“This is the only punishment you can come up with? This is pathetic,” Loki snarled, refusing to take his eyes from the mirror, lest something jump out and grab him. But all he could see was his own morose reflection.

“We shall see, brother.”

Loki turned then, sharply only to find an empty space behind him. His brother had disappeared and left the mirror. He returned his gaze to the mirror and took a step closer to it, placing his palm on the glass-surface. The words meant for Thor still hung empty on his lips.
We are not brothers.