Loki's life in Asgardian prison is surprisingly comfortable.
He has a plush chair, a coffee table, a bed, and the omnipresent golden glow of the high-tech confinement field makes it feel less like incarceration and more like an extended stay at a high-end retreat— albeit with fewer luxuries.
"To be honest, seeing your current situation, I'm almost envious," Arthur remarks from outside the shimmering energy barrier, shaking his head in exaggerated sympathy.
Loki arches an eyebrow at the comment, clearly unimpressed. "In that case, how about we trade places? You come in, and I go out."
Arthur smirks. "Tempting, but I've got more important things to do."
His gaze drifts around the cell before he asks, "Anything interesting happened in here lately?"
Loki chuckles, lounging back in his chair. "Is this one of the three flavors you're asking from me?"
Arthur exhales dramatically. "Do you have to put a price on everything?"
"I am a god, and you are a mere mortal," Loki replies, his smirk widening.
Arthur shakes his head. "Some beings can't even manage to be decent people, yet they have the audacity to call themselves gods."
Loki blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the retort.
"Well," Arthur continues, shifting gears, "since we're talking about those favors... How about we get started on the first one?"
Loki eyes him with suspicion but eventually nods. "Fine. What do you need?"
"According to my calculations, something interesting is going to happen in this prison soon," Arthur explains. "And by 'interesting,' I mean potentially disastrous— for you, at least. All I need from you is to stay out of it. Don't interfere, don't stir the pot— just keep quiet."
Loki leans forward. "And what, exactly, is going to happen?"
Arthur smirks. "If I tell you, you'll start plotting. But I will say this— if you don't listen to me, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
Loki scoffs. "Unless my silence somehow restores Asgard, which is destined for ruin, I fail to see what I'd have to regret."
As he speaks, a shadow flickers across his gaze, betraying something deeper beneath his sarcasm.
Arthur sighs. "Trust me, you don't hate Asgard as much as you think."
Loki's expression hardens. "What do you know of me?"
"Oh, I know you quite well," Arthur replies smoothly. "You're just Asgard's most prideful third princess. And in that category? Well, you're unparalleled."
Loki's eyes widen in outrage, but before he can retort, Arthur is already turning to leave.
"Come back here!" Loki shouts, his voice echoing off the walls. "Who are you calling a princess?! I am a king! And one day, I will claim my throne!"
Arthur glances back over his shoulder, his expression utterly devoid of sincerity. "I believe in you. Do your best."
Loki's nostrils flare as he inhales sharply, struggling to maintain his composure. Ultimately, he closes his eyes, choosing to ignore the infuriating mortal.
—
After exiting the prison, Arthur mutters to himself, "He's definitely not going to listen to me, is he?"
He exhales. "If I hadn't made that last comment, there was at least a fifty percent chance he'd stay put. But now? Zero. He'll convince himself that nothing could possibly make him regret his actions— and he won't pass up any chance to escape. Well then, since Odin isn't offering any guidance, I guess I'll have to handle this my own way."
His thoughts shift to his next task. "Now then… Asgard's medical bay."
A vague plan is forming in his mind. A minor scheme, but perhaps one that could tip the scales regarding the impending Ragnarok. Since Odin has chosen to step back, the responsibility now rests on him.
But before anything else, he has one more thing to take care of.
Upon arriving at the grand, gleaming halls of Asgard's medical facility, Arthur glances around and frowns. No sign of Thor or Jane.
"This guy really prioritizes romance over friendship," he mutters.
Fortunately, Odin has already arranged for Arthur to have some degree of authority in Asgard. The medical staff recognize him instantly, offering respectful bows before answering his questions without hesitation.
Arthur's inquiry is straightforward.
"If a human from Earth were stabbed in the back— which would be a fatal wound— but, at the exact moment of death, time froze for him, suspending him in that moment… Could Asgardian medical technology save him?"
The chief physician strokes his beard, contemplating the challenge for a long moment.
Finally, he responds, "I won't say it's impossible. But I can guarantee that he wouldn't die immediately."
"What preparations would be needed?" Arthur presses.
"Not many. About ten minutes of setup. The main issue is the waiting process."
"I'll wait," Arthur says. "Once everything is ready, I'll bring him here. Just know that the moment you see him, time will resume its normal flow."
The physician nods. "Understood."
Arthur is determined to save this man— a middle-aged agent with an alarmingly receding hairline.
During the Battle of New York, when Loki launched his attack on the Helicarrier, he personally stabbed this agent in cold blood.
Yes. That agent is Phil Coulson.
Arthur isn't entirely sure why he's doing this. Maybe it's because, despite everything, it seems like a waste to let Coulson die. Or maybe it's because, even after all this time, he still finds himself believing in second chances.
Ten minutes pass. Under the guidance of the chief physician, Arthur carefully places Coulson onto a floating medical platform, its glowing runes pulsing with energy.
As the healing process begins, Coulson exhales softly— the first sign of life returning to him.
The physician glances at Arthur and nods. "Now, we wait."
Arthur exhales in relief. "Perfect. While we wait, I need to have a little chat with Thor."
Something tells him he'll need the Thunderer's help soon enough.
—
(End of Chapter)
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