Odin did not assemble the court for Amora’s trial. It was only the king on his throne, with Frigga, Karnilla, Thor, and Loki all standing at his side as she was brought before them, her wrists chained behind her. She was still wearing her feast day dress, smeared with dust and blood from the vault, and her hair was lanker and coarser than Loki had ever seen it.

Loki wasn’t certain what his presence here would accomplish, but he kept catching himself leaning onto the balls of his feet, like his body was bracing for an attack. Perhaps he would be punished alongside her. Perhaps Odin wanted him to witness whatever he would do to her as a warning. The chains around her ankles clinked against the floor, a delicate sound that seemed more suited to putting on jewelry. No one had sponged the blood off her face. No one had healed her bruises.

Odin did not stand when the soldiers halted their progress at the base of the stairs that led to the throne. He just adjusted his grip on Gungnir. Across the platform from Loki, Thor, and Frigga, Karnilla stared down at Amora, her lips pressed tightly together. With two dark braids falling around her face, she looked even paler than usual.

“Amora of Nornheim,” Odin said, his voice the one he used for court meetings and assemblies, though there was no one else present. The resonance made the room feel even emptier. “You have been charged with treason, theft, destruction of a sacred relic, and robbery. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

With her head still bowed, she replied, “The charges are a bit redundant.”

At his side, Loki felt Thor stiffen. Odin’s brow creased. “Excuse me?”

“Are not theft and robbery the same, my king?” she asked. “I think you’re trying to inflate the list of charges against me with synonyms.”

“Silence!” Loki had expected the shout to come from his father, but it was Karnilla who raised her voice instead. Amora flinched. Karnilla stalked down the stairs, her cloak rasping with every step. “I gave you everything. A kingdom to inherit. Schooling to use your powers. A home.”

“A cage,” Amora retorted.

“And this,” Karnilla said, her voice rising again, “is how you repay me. You disrespect your king. You disrespect me. You take the tools you have been given to control your power and you cast them aside. You let your strength corrupt and control you.”

“I do not want to be controlled,” Amora argued. “I am powerful, so let me be powerful!”

“And it is that power that is your undoing,” Odin interrupted. “I asked Karnilla if she would speak on your behalf. I asked your delegation from Nornheim if any of them wished to vouch for you. Not a one of them did. No one will speak for you, Amora.”

Loki should have spoken. He wanted to speak. He felt the words on his tongue, ready: It was me. I’m the one you should punish. I’m the one who is too strong, too dangerous.

When he looked up, Amora was watching him. She had given herself for him, but neither of them had expected this. He bent his head and stayed silent.

“Your powers are too strong to remain unchecked, and you refuse to check them,” Odin continued. “As such, you will be banished to Midgard, where you will remain for the rest of your existence.”

Loki had to bite back a gasp. Death at the executioner’s hand would have been more merciful, for this was death in its slowest form, its cruelest. On Midgard, there was no magic, no power to be channeled, power that her life force was tied to. Her magic would fade, and she would fade with it. The thought of it made his skin crawl, the idea of losing his magic slowly, slowly, slowly, one drop at a time extracted from him by the world he was forced to live in. It was dishonor. It was pain. It was death. Were Odin any kind of merciful king, he would have let the ax fall fast and finished it here and now.

Amora’s eyes widened, that rare flash of fear blazing incandescent, consuming her whole being. Whatever she had expected when she had spoken for Loki in the vault, it was not this. “Please, no.”

“You will be taken now to the observatory, and the Bifrost opened for you,” Odin continued, as Amora’s voice rose in a scream. “It will not open to you again.”

“No! Please!” Amora struggled. “Karnilla, please, don’t let him do this to me! Please!”

At a nod from Odin, the guards began to drag her away, but she was thrashing like a tethered falcon. Say something, Loki told himself. Save her. But he couldn’t speak.

“Karnilla, please! Your Majesty, have mercy! Mercy!” Her knees hit the ground, and Loki felt it like an earthquake tremor. “Put me in your dungeons. Let me rot there. Trap me on Nornheim, throw me through a wormhole, but please, not this!”

The guards abandoned their chains and hauled her up by her elbows, dragging her backward down the hall.

“Karnilla!” She twisted, her supplications shifting. “Frigga! My queen, my lady, please, have mercy! Intervene.”

“Mother,” Loki said very quietly, but he felt Frigga’s fingers against his back.

The guards were almost to the door now. Amora’s voice was now a blistering scream. “My queen, please! Please—Frigga! Loki—wait! Loki please, tell him—”

The doors slammed, and Odin finally stood, turning to Loki. He felt Thor shrink away from his side, dodging the beam of their father’s anger, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

Frigga took a step forward in between them. “Odin, let it be—”

But Odin held up a hand. “Let me speak to our son.” Frigga fell silent but didn’t retreat as Odin approached them. His step seemed heavier than usual, and he leaned heavily on his staff as he stood before Loki. “Consider this your warning, my son,” he said, “of what will happen if you too become reckless with your power. Your title will not protect you again. I will not let you be the undoing of this realm.”

And there it was. What Odin had seen in the Godseye Mirror, laid bare at his feet. Now he knew. Thor knew. They all knew which prince would turn against Asgard.

Loki felt his throat tighten, his hands closing into fists at his side.

He could have spoken up. He wanted to. He wanted to be like Thor and argue with his father and come away from it feeling righteous and right, knowing Odin would be secretly pleased with his hot-headedness and the way he stood his ground. But he was not his brother. Insolence would not be a sign of strength, but defiance. He and his brother may play the same game of his father’s devising, but the rules would never be the same. Darkness moves in a different way than the light. It is always there before the light. It has to be faster, and smarter, and stealthier.

Loki was not his father. He was not his brother, or his mother. He was Amora, and she had been led away in chains and banished to Midgard. He had to be smarter and stealthier than she had been. He had to learn everything he could, and never let on how much he knew.

He did not feel like a prince. He may never be king. He wasn’t made to be a soldier, and he wasn’t certain if he wanted to be a villain. He wasn’t certain if he had any say in that matter.

The only thing he knew for certain was that he was powerful.

Powerful enough to end the world.