Disclaimer: Hah, I own nothing.

This is an answer to a prompt on Norsekink and a cannon!AU:

"Scourge; 1. a whip or lash, especially for the infliction of punishment and torture. 2. a person or thing that applies or administers punishment or severe criticism. 3. a cause or affliction or calamity (disease and famine are scourges of humanity)

Loki is the Scourge of Odin and the most powerful sorcerer in the Nine Realms. When someone truly angers him, Odin sends Loki to met out punishment. The position has given Loki great power, but he hates it. It isn't the magic he dreamed of performing for Asgard when he started learning spells. Odin also commanded him to secrecy (a misguided attempt to prevent Loki being feared by the Asgardians).

Loki can create plagues that wipe out entire populations, famines that starve entire planets, extinctions or overpopulations (locusts ect) that devastate entire ecosystems, and calamity's that change the very shape of the land (wars and natural disasters). Odin keeps the Nine Realms in check with the threat of these.

When Loki called himself a "monster" he really meant it - the revelation of his Jotun heritage enough to finally push him to say what he's thought of himself and the horrible things he's committed across the Nine Realms in Odin's name. It's also why he tried to destroy Jotunheim, along with destroying a part of himself he hated he was acting out a punishment he truly thought would please Odin.

When Odin has need of his services, he goes to Midgard to give Loki orders - in front of the Avengers. Thor is horrified to learn Loki is the Scourge all in the Nine Realms live in terror of.

If one listens closely, one can strain their ears hard enough to hear it. The sound of a door closing shut. The sound of a graveyard's symphony. The sound of the night when the moon has reached the peak of its arc in the sky. The sound of silence. Irrevocable, dissonant silence. A cacophony of insanity.

Loki's hand, tucked gently into the aged folds of skin that make up his father's strong, meaty hand, trembles as the sounds of silence drifts over, caressing his ear. He feels his father squeeze his hand reassuringly and Loki returns the action. Their feet are clad in wool socks and they make no noise against the marble floors of the palace. Loki closes his eyes and unconsciously moves closer to his father, letting Odin lead him.

In the quiet storm of the mind, he blocks out the funeral silence that suffocates him, replacing it with thoughts. Loud, boisterous and obnoxious thoughts. He lets his mind wander, focusing on happier memories like the warm lips of his mother as they curve into a smile that he deceives himself to thinking is meant only for him. He brings up the memory of her nimble, smooth fingers as they run across his hair, slicking it back gently. Loki breathes and he remembers the palace when its golden light that spills in the hallowed halls instead of the eerie yet beautiful luminescent blue the moon casts.

The illusion takes over his mind, filling his senses, and Loki can almost bring himself to believe it. But the steady presence of his father beside him makes it very hard for him to believe his lie, his trick. Loki breathes again and tries again, letting the pieces of his memory construct a fantasy. But he fails once more.

Loki's eyes flutter open and he sneaks a glance at Odin's towering figure. His eyes crawl up the golden robes decorated with symbols and patterns he cannot discern in the moonlight until he reaches the stoic, bearded face he has come to know so well. He sees the metal eyepatch on his father's right eye, glinting every once in a while as it catches a sliver of light. The left eye, covered by a veil of sheer will that hides the Allfather's emotions, stares straight ahead, blue-eyed gaze revealing nothing as the owner walks.

The little princeling bites his soft lips, anxiety clouding the little ten year-old's mind. He glances briefly at the walls - or where he assumes the walls should be - and at the dancing shadows that twist and contort. His heart thuds in his chest and his hand shakes even more. 'They're not monsters, they're not monsters,' he thinks to himself as he grasps his father's hand even tighter. Father will protect him; he always chases the monsters - which aren't there to begin with - away. He shouldn't be afraid of what isn't there, he really shouldn't. But there is doubt in his heart every time he sees the shadows on the walls and the shadows that trail behind him and his father.

The Jotuns, the Frost Giants, are real, living beings that exist in the realm of ice and snow. He knows the stories about them, the tales of the hideous creatures that could be stalking the streets of Asgard, peering into windows and snatching children from their beds and families. He tells himself that the stories are improbable, brushing them off as products of a delirious man's imaginative and mead-ridden mind. But he hasn't yet quite mastered the art of twisting words into ones he wants to here. In his mind, the mere possibility of there being a monster still scares him.

Loki hangs his head in shame of his behaviour; if the others see him as he is now...He hears the voices of the children his age, their voices, their taunts, their jeers and mocking tones. He carries the memory of their words with him everywhere he goes and no matter what he tries to do, he can never drown them out. They're a part of him, a piece of his heart and mind; the voices and him are one. He tries to escape them but they always return to torment him with their insidious shrills and raspy whispers. Loki's breathing hitches slightly as the voices grow louder.

He tugs on his father's sleeve, calling attention to himself for the first time in the evening.

"Father, where are we going?" His voice is but a scared whisper, easily swallowed by the oppressive silence of the darkened hall. Odin inclines his head towards his youngest son and returns the frightened emerald stare with a firmer, almost calming one.

"My dear son, be not afraid." Odin is answered by a shaky nod and a small squeak that could have been an 'Okay.'

They travel down the hall in silence with only each other as company. The whole palace and city are asleep, only they and a few select night watchmen are awake. Loki looks forward once more, gaze centering on the ever-looming door at the end of the hall.

It is only when he is a few paces away from the door that Loki realizes just how small he is compared to everything else. He feels diminutive and insignificant in the presence of the fortified wall-like structure before him as it opens up without so much as a command from the Allfather. Odin jerks his son forward and through the doorway and into foreboding room.

The first thing Loki notices is the twelve torches that line the circular room, creating even more shadows that flicker and dance on the walls. The room is simple and bare of any furniture and the second prince only as a second to ponder of the possible uses of the room when he hears a soft rustle.

His head snaps towards the middle of the illy lit room and his eyes widen. Chained to the ground by the legs is a small woodland animal, an innocent and defenseless rabbit. Loki stops and looks up at his father whose face has once again become like steel. He swallows thickly when Odin's unyielding gaze moves over to him and Loki could do nothing but stare back. He knows that trying to look away would result in disaster.

His father is silent – there that sound is again – as he reaches over and places a sleek, sharp dagger into Loki's thin, pale hand. He forces Loki's fingers to curl around the cool metal and pauses for a moment before pushing his son towards the rabbit who seemed to cower in fear of the raven-haired boy. If he listens closely, he can hear the small puffs of air the rabbit takes in as its beady eyes pierces his soul.

Loki's legs wobble and he fears for a moment that he will collapse, but Odin's solid hand on his shoulder prevents that from happening. The dagger is heavy and odd in his quivering palm; it does not fit at all. Odin ushers them closer to the rabbit until they are right above the poor creature.

Seconds tick by and soon melt into minutes.

There is a glint, a silver glint that sweeps across the room for the smallest of seconds.

And Loki hears it once more, the silence.

Years pass by slowly for Loki as he plods along, trailing ever so slightly behind his brother Thor. Odin watches from behind, calculating gaze always trained on his youngest son, as if watching or waiting for Loki to mess up.

Loki is unnerved greatly by this, but at the same time please. Father is looking at him, not Thor, Loki!

Still, he tries to do what he can to please his father, following instructions and doing his utmost to always put in the effort to everything he does. When Odin's gaze travels back to Thor on some occasions, he begins to notice the gaping gap between him and his brother. The revelation displeases him and the little child begins to resort to harmless tricks and pranks to force the blue eye to stare at him. It's not that he's selfish or jealous, it's just that he wishes for once that Odin would notice him without noticing Thor first.

The room seems to dwarf him in all it's glory and splendor. Loki doesn't stutter in his walk as he crosses from one point to the other, head held up high and proud. Frankly, he doesn't quite see the need for such a 'ceremony', thinking it a bit over the top and meaningless. He never really understood the Asgardians' infatuation with dressing up simple events with glitz and glamour. It might probably be because of tradition or perhaps Odin feels as if this particular event needs a ceremony.

Whatever the reason, the Allfather does what he wishes to do and who is he to question Father's motives and decisions?

Loki shakes his heads of such thoughts and begins to kneel before his father, stopping just short of the steps leading up to the dais Odin rests upon.

Odin watches him before striking Gungnir on the ground, the dull thud echoing loudly.

"Loki Odinson, my son, my second born. Gifted with the power of magic, the very energy that surrounds us all in silence. It is the embodiment of the mysteries of unknown answers waiting to be solved. But only a true master can recognize its tendrils and listen to the tales it tells. It is fitting weapon for a true sorcerer, the most powerful in all of the Nine Realms, to wield," Odin's voice booms like thunder as it easily fills the throne room, rumbling with authority. He sits upon his throne with Gungnir in hand, flanked by his two crows, Huginn and Muninn, looking every bit intimidating and omnipotent as the Allfather would. His aura practically screams absolute power as it rolls off the Allfather in waves.

"Do you swear to use your powers eternal for the good of Asgard?" His stare is unfaltering, never failing to demand the immediate attention of whoever is on the receiving end. Loki looks up, green eyes locking with blue.

"I swear," the words flow out of his mouth like sweetened honey, well practiced and perfectly articulated. He resists the urge to bow his head in an attempt to escape Odin's imposing gaze and forces himself to stare steadily back. He is no longer that naive child who faithfully followed his father through the dark halls night after night at the oddest of hours. The novelty of the dagger's coldness and weight had worn off years ago; now it's a familiar, nearly soothing companion of his. Long forgotten is the feeling of pure, unadulterated horror his younger-self felt as splashes of ruby red stained his tunic, hands and face.

He is a man now, braver, stronger and now in possession of hands that no longer jitter with uncertainty. The simple act of masking his panic and fear has become a tedious reaction, easily brought forth when the situation calls for it.

"And do you swear to cast aside your mercy and to pledge yourself to smite whoever I choose with a vengeful strike?" The gravity of Odin's words hit Loki and he strips his face of any emotion before they have a chance to surface. He will not be weak, not a critical time like this. He must appear strong on the exterior even when on the inside, he is impatiently waiting for the moment where he can collapse and break down - not that he'd ever bring himself to commit such a degrading act.

"I swear." He will make father proud, by the Norns, he will stop at nothing to make father proud of him.

"Do you swear to secrecy, to seal your lips and to bring this to your grave?"

"I swear." There is a pause as Odin scrutinizes his son, searching Loki's face for something the young prince could not name. Apparently finding what he was looking for, Odin stands up at full height, making him seem even more commanding than before.

"And on this day, I Odin, Allfather, will proclaim you as my Scourge, the Harbinger of Chaos and Punishment in my name!" There is no applause or shouts of congratulations, only the ringing of Odin's words in his ears. Loki's hand, clenched above his heart as he bows before his father, tightens to the point where his perfectly filed nails break the skin of his palm, letting tiny beads of blood flow out. Loki bites his lips, chapped and weathered after years of abuse, in a rare moment of ambiguity and finally bows his head in resignation.

This is his life now.

But isn't this what he has been yearning for for years? His father finally acknowledges his capability as a warrior, as a son. Was his father's voice not dripping with pride as he spoke to him, did it not sound exactly like he had hoped it would? At last, he has achieved his life-long dream and there is no Thor to steal his spotlight for now they are equal. Should he not be happy? Should he not be filled with joy and pride now that his father's eye is focused on him rather than on Thor?

The room is empty, silent and dead in response.

There you have it. The first chapter. I hope I didn't completely fail. As it was originally posted on Norsekink via Anonymous, I couldn't edit after I posted, some parts will seem different than the original. Why? Because the Fire Nation attacked. Haha, no. In truth, I added some parts, edited others and may or may not delete other parts in the future because of editing (blessed and cursed editing).

Why does English have to be so hard?! TT-TT

Every year on Midgard equates to about 116 years on Asgard - this is headcanon by the way. So Loki and Thor will appear to be 20-something year olds on Earth, but back 'home', they are around 2000-something year olds. At the beginning, Loki is around 1162 years old. For the sake of simplicity, I put him as 10.

Also, I didn't know whether to put this in the Thor category or Avengers category. I guessed Avengers because this will grow to include them later on...and elements of the movie will be added.

And YES! I did use a mock-up of Thor's not-coronation from the movie Thor so the lines in the last segment are not entirely mine. I claim no ownership over it.

Anywho, happy reading!