Full summary: After serving mere days of his sentence, Loki is freed by Thanos. But, instead of returning to his army of Chitauri, he has a different mission. To kill the Avengers. But nothing goes according to plan, and when Loki arrives at Stark Tower he is more broken than he has ever been before.
Insanity has no mercy.
Luckily, compassion, even from enemies, is a powerful healer, but will Loki be able to overcome his demons and accept these mortals' kindness, before Thanos grows impatient and it is too late?
A/N. I was pretty devastated by Endgame, but I've been wanting to write a Loki-centered story for a long time because I've very quickly become obsessed with Marvel. And Loki.
This story takes place before Endgame (right after Avengers one) because I couldn't think of anything to add to it... and I didn't like it that much. It wasn't a bad movie... I just hated the ending, and... other, Loki related things. And definitely some Captain America things.
Keep in mind that this story does have an unreliable narrator. Possibly several of them.
Oh, and it's rated T for language, scenes of torture, and self-harm. Lots of self-hatred as well, and general dark themes and heavy angst. I won't be putting a warning before the chapters these things occur in, to avoid spoilers, so consider yourself warned.
And I realized I should probably clarify something: I DON'T think that mental illness makes you "broken", or any of the other terms I use throughout this story. When I'm writing from Loki's point of view I use those terms because he has a lot of self-hatred and I feel like that's how he would think of himself. Just to clarify :)
Oh, and I love quotes, and have added in some ones that I really like, in later chapters, for your enjoyment. Couldn't resist, sorry.
Now, please enjoy, the first chapter of All My Little Demons.
()()()
Kill the Avengers.
It matters not how. Magic, strangulation, perhaps several well-placed daggers as they sleep. I care not, as long as they are dead.
Loki tangled his fingers in his hair and pulled. The pain should have driven away his thoughts but it didn't. So Loki pulled harder, and, when it still didn't work, he resorted to scratching at his scalp, digging his nails mercilessly into the sides of his face, biting his lip until it bled.
Kill them.
He stood and began to pace in circles like a wild animal, around the perimeter of his circular cell. Through the glass he could see nothing but a dark staircase and a small, barred window near the ceiling. The sky was blue. Earlier he had seen the sun, but now it had passed by.
The voice grew louder, insistent. It shouted at his skull. You will kill them!
"I would love nothing more," he murmured. Foolishly, Odin had allowed the guards to remove the muzzle and the chain that bound his wrists. If it wasn't for the spell that held back his magic, that choked it each time it tried to leap from Loki's fingers, he would be free.
Escape.
Kill them.
Now.
The voice had arrived shortly after he was locked in this cell. It never rested, always insisting. It crept into his nightmares and screamed at him. But, although it was only a side-effect of his shattered excuse for a mind, something about it was oddly familiar. Like an old, forgotten friend, come to comfort him in his madness.
Loki punched the wall.
It didn't hurt enough. Nothing ever hurt enough. He growled because he was a lion in a cage. The poor, pathetic lion that people ogled at with their big, sad eyes. Oh, if only we could let him out, but this is for his own good. Poor lion is dangerous. Poor lion is a murderer and a liar and a Frost Giant and he deserves to die!
"I know," he said. "I know full well." And yet the lion never stops trying to break free.
He continued to pace.
Watch them bleed, let them scream. Cut their screams short. Kill them. It's all you're good for.
Loki hissed between his teeth. He walked faster, but his mind helpfully supplied him with images - Stark, writhing in agony. Rogers, lying still with his little shield snapped in half. Banner - the Hulk - oh, Loki would enjoy killing him. Perhaps he would pick him up and throw him into the concrete over and over and over again to hear how he screamed, and see how he cried when he lifted a shaking hand to the mutated skin of his abdomen and felt one million shards of bone because his ribs were broken. Yes, Loki would enjoy it.
He glared at the glass. He hated the glass.
You sit in a cell and imagine that you deserve freedom. You are more amusing than you know.
"Shut up!" Loki shouted. His voice was so hoarse that he winced.
He pounded his fists against the glass, he kicked it, he stepped back and ran so he could throw all his weight against it. It didn't work, but it was worth it if only for the bruises that stung and distracted him from his own mind.
Don't worry, I'm still here.
I won't leave you all alone. You would only fall faster.
Loki screamed as he hurled himself at the glass. He pulled at his hair and scratched at his face but nothing could dispel the image his mind eagerly provided him - darkness and a churning dread in his stomach as the world grew small above him and he disappeared into darkness.
What was the point? Did the all-knowing Allfather truly not understand that isolating Loki in such a small space with no room to breathe would only fracture his mind further?
He wants you like this. His little broken doll. A toy for the dogs to play with.
Chew and chew and chew until it's ripped to useless, unwanted, shattered shreds.
Do not give him the satisfaction. Escape.
Kill them.
Now.
Loki laughed aloud. He had not been put in here long ago - less than two days, he thought, although he was not sure - but he had already tried everything. He had tried to reach out with his magic, but experienced instead the horrible sensation of his it being pulled and stuffed back into his skin.
He had tried to break the glass but it was impossible. He had scoured every inch for a weakness, he had inspected the door mechanism for a fatal flaw. Nothing. Nothing.
He had had no visitors.
Isolation is the surest way to madness.
The Allfather knows this.
Kill them. Not just the Avengers. Once the lion was free, it would prowl to Odin's throne, rip out his heart with his teeth, and laugh as it did it.
There it is.
The insanity you're known for.
You've lost your mind.
Good for you.
()()()
Whenever his thoughts wandered, he would remember how he had felt, standing tall and alone at the head of his Chitauri army and watching the people of Midgard fall to their knees before him.
You crave it.
It is your rightful place, after all.
Above.
Loki flexed the fingers that should have held his scepter. Breathed in the stale air that should have burned hotly with his magic. It was all so empty and so small. He felt like the walls were closing in.
He looked out the window. Now, the sky was gray.
He was no longer above anything. They had put him in the deepest dungeon, but had made his cell out of glass so he could be continuously watched. They were still afraid of him. He smiled,
How long would Odin keep him here? How long before he or Thor came to see him, to point and laugh at the Jotun runt? Loki hoped it was soon. He had killed thousands and was a murderer and a psychopath and a worthless Frost Giant, but they believed him to be important, to be "family", which made them more gullible than the smallest child. So easy to hurt.
Especially Thor. Oh, if only Loki were free. He would take Thor's hammer and bash in his skull with it. He would be able to wield it. Not because he was worthy, but because his magic and his body and his mind had been shut behind bars and crammed into this circle of glass, and he knew that once he was free he would feel infinitely stronger, with so much room to stretch out.
Loki paced.
()()()
It was the third day when he saw the glow of torchlight as someone descended the staircase. There were heavy footsteps, and the shadow they cast was large. Distinctive.
Instantly, he stopped pacing and straightened, chin held high.
Pretending you aren't broken.
The liar always lies.
It was Thor.
Loki took a deep, quiet breath. He tried to gather all his pieces together, fighting for an imitation of sanity. Now that Thor was actually here, Loki did not want to see him.
"Brother," Thor said, in a voice raspier than Loki's had been a day ago. He held the torch at eye-level and it cast deep shadows that exposed the bags under his eyes. He wore one of his ratty sweaters from Midgard. Mjolnir dangled from his fingers.
Be wary of the big, scary lion. Yes, he's in a cage and he hasn't eaten in days and he's perfectly mindless, but you're the prince and we wouldn't want him to bite you, now would we? It's probably a good idea to bring a deadly weapon with you just in case. Strike him between the eyes if he moves.
Thor took several steps forward and stopped at arm's reach of the glass. His eyes swept slowly over Loki and hovered at his face.
"What in all the nine realms possessed you, Loki? Why would you do this?" Thor breathed deeply and adjusted his grip on the hammer. "I swore I would not visit you until I was calm enough to prevent myself from shouting at you for hours on end!" Thor practically shouted, quickly becoming angry, as he always did. "But if I was to keep that promise, I fear I would never have visited you at all!"
Loki met Thor's eyes directly. He didn't even blink. "And wouldn't that have been tragic," he said.
Either Thor was silently fuming or too thick to process the sarcasm. Either way, he didn't move for several seconds, aside from constantly adjusting his grip on the hammer. His other fist was clenched. Ah, so he was definitely silently fuming. Good. He should be angry. Loki hoped the memories of his poor, broken brother's actions kept him up at night. He hoped that was why Thor had bags under his eyes.
"I see I should not have come," Thor said, bitterly.
"You were always an expert at stating the obvious."
Thor closed his eyes briefly. Was that a trick of the light? Or was it, truly, the glimmer of a tear on Thor's cheek?
Loki laughed aloud. "Crying for your murderer of a little brother?" He was not Thor's brother, but he knew it would hurt him more if he pretended to be.
"I must go," Thor muttered. "A guard will arrive shortly with food." His eyes met Loki's for a second longer. Then he turned and practically ran up the stairs, torchlight bobbing wildly.
()()()
Frigga followed not long after.
She stopped only a few feet from the glass, and reached out a hand to touch it. She left her hand there for a moment, unspeaking.
Unlike Thor, she had no bags beneath her eyes, no obvious signs of distress. Loki did not care, because he did not care if she mourned for her poor, unwanted, Jotun runt. That was not what he was. He was a king. He had held power in his hands and, even if he had to wait for millenia, he would reclaim it. He would reclaim it and, once he had, he would kill them all.
Yes.
Kill them.
He was a king, and he did not care if Frigga mourned for him. Once he escaped, he would climb the steps to his golden throne, above all others. He would look down at her and throw his head back and laugh.
"You have injured your brother grievously," she said softly, without meeting his eyes.
That was the point of stabbing him.
Loki smiled, for that thought was his own.
But the voice quickly beat him back into submission.
Look how she fears for her favored son. She could care less about you. All that matters is Thor.
She cannot even look you in the eye.
She thinks you are a monster.
She is right.
"Why do you smile?" she asked, in a steady voice. She pressed both hands to the glass. "Thor is hurting terribly. Not because of his wounds, although those were indeed grievous. But he hurts for you. For his brother."
Loki flinched. "I am not his brother. And thank the Norns, for I would despise being related to such an idiotic, insufferable oaf. Let him cry."
Something hardened in Frigga's eyes. She backed away from the glass. "You are so ungrateful for the love we have shown you. Loki… yes, you are adopted. But does that not mean Odin must have loved you when he first saw you? Otherwise, why bring you out of the cold? Why raise you as his own?"
"Do not speak to me of Odin."
"He would see you."
A laugh burst from Loki's lips. "He may see me, if he wishes." He raised his arms and turned in a wide circle, aware that, after three days without food, without sleep, he looked like the ruins of his former self. "Yes, he may look at me, he may stare at me like I am a creature in a cage to be observed or studied." he began to pace in small, agitated circles. A shark, circling its prey.
A criminal, circling within his little glass cell.
"Loki… you know he does not…"
Loki cut her off. "I will not see him. I will not speak to him. I will not acknowledge him. Tell him this, when he next asks to see me. Tell him his poor, pitiful little foster child would rather remain alone for a thousand years and slowly go mad then look upon his face!" Loki stopped, breathing heavily, his back to Frigga. His hands were shaking, and he stared at them like they were a rather grotesque beetle he had never seen before. His hands were always steady. Always calm, always in keeping with his facade. But not now. Now, his hands shook with his anger. His many disguises were slipping away because he was no longer sane enough to keep the emotion from spilling out like so much boiling water.
"Very well. I will tell him to wait. But Thor would see you again, and I will not prevent him from coming, whatever you may say."
Loki clenched his fists. Why, why would Thor want to come? Had Loki not been clear enough?
"He loves you," Frigga said.
Loki spun around. His eyes darted wildly from hers to the floor to the staircase to the torch on the wall. Its fire left a bright spot on his eyes. "And how would you know? How can you even pretend to know? You know nothing. But know this: Thor does not love me. Not after what I did." He grinned, raising his arms. "And I do not regret a moment of it."
The truth, for once.
The broken toy loves being broken.
Frigga nodded silently. There were no tears in her eyes. Instead, her head was held high as she turned and walked out of the dungeon. The sound of the door closing echoed long after she had gone.
Loki hurled himself at the glass.
()()()
The guard unlocked a small hatch in the glass that lined the floor and slid a tray through the opening. Loki glanced at it - a bland, soggy sandwich; a wilted, dried out apple; and a glass of water. The guard stared at him for a few moments, then left. But Loki did not touch the food.
He didn't exactly care why he would rather have sawed off several of his own fingers than take anything they offered him, but he supposed it was because eating their food would feel like giving in. The hunger pangs were tolerable, so the food remained untouched. At first, he also refused to drink the water. But he was so thirsty from three days without any that he soon succumbed and took a few small sips.
Then he paced.
Kill them.
Come on, you can do it. You've already proven that much - many times over.
He held his chin high and saw thousands of faces beneath him. As one, they bowed to the ground. Reverence. He was a king. In that moment, with his scepter raised high, he felt so strong. Stronger than he had ever felt before.
And now look at you.
So weak. So broken.
Loki barreled into the glass. Pain erupted in his shoulder, so he backed up and tried again. When he hit, something cracked and he screamed; but the spell the Allfather had cast on his cell only caused the wound to knit itself back together again.
Loki gritted his teeth and threw himself at the wall, eager for any relief from the voice in his mind. He punched the glass and one of his knuckles broke. Pain cut through his mind. He was a piece of shattered glass, breaking itself into ever smaller pieces.
Someone descended the stairs. "What the hell are you doing?" It was a guard, holding a torch and peering at him from behind furrowed brows.
Loki clenched his broken fist. Aside from that, he held an emotionless facade more effective than any of his projections. His face was deadpan, expressionless, like his emotions were a window and he had pulled down a shutter. He stood tall in the center of the room, head held high.
The guard took a brazen step forward. "It was like you were trying to break the glass," he said, with a mocking smile. "It's indestructible. Especially without your magic." He said the word with distaste. "So you'd better give up trying, because you are going to be here for a long, long time."
Yes, Loki knew.
A miracle that you can know anything when you are so fractured.
But soon your mind will be gone completely.
And you will know nothing at all.
The guard smirked at him, and left. When Loki heard the door shut, he backed up against the wall and threw himself at the opposite side, viciously, screaming.
The glass broke. Loki fell through and collapsed on a pile of shards. He stumbled to his feet and turned in a tight circle, warily, scanning all corners of the room. Someone must have broken it. It was not possible that his crude attempts at relief from his madness had broken the glass.
More footsteps. Loki waited behind the door, and when it swung open, he charged at the guard and pushed him to the ground before he had time to react. Loki forced his neck into the crook of his elbow and squeezed.
Strangulation was a slow, messy process. The guard's hands gripped Loki's elbow, white-knuckled, desperately trying to free himself. He managed to scream once before Loki squeezed harder. After several minutes he fell limp, staring at nothing.
And doesn't it feel good? And doesn't it feel right?
He lies dead on the floor and you feel whole again.
"Well done."
Loki looked up. Ebony Maw was standing in the center of what used to be his cell, white, scabbed hands folded behind his back. His small, black eyes met Loki's mockingly from an eternally sneering face.
Loki smiled broadly. "So this is the plan then? Thanos has come to retrieve me?"
"Not exactly. You will not return to the Chitauri. Thanos has a much greater purpose for you."
()()()
A few minutes later, Thor pushed his way past the guards that stood in front of the stairs to Loki's cell. He knew Loki did not want to see him, but he could not stay away. This was his brother. This vicious, bitter thing, locked away in a cage. And Thor would visit him, no matter what cruel things he said. Loki was a liar, he knew that. Could it not be that the terrible words he spoke were lies as well?
He wanted desperately to find a reason, something that could redeem his little brother. He needed to know why he had attacked New York and killed all those people and he needed Loki to have some excuse - perhaps he had been under mind control, or the Chitauri had forced him to do it, or Thanos himself. Something. Anything. Because Thor's brother was not a murderer. Thor's brother would never do this. And, like it or not, Thor's brother was the same person who was locked in that cell, who, Frigga had told him, paced wildly like a caged animal, who looked at Thor with pure hatred, who did not even want to see him.
And who claimed, even believed, such awful things: that his family had never loved him, that they thought him inferior because he was a Frost Giant, that they had raised him and loved him out of pity, nothing more.
Thor longed to spend more time with Loki. To help him understand that they did love him. That Thor loved him. But all Loki wanted to do was drive him away.
Thor paused on the staircase. What could he possibly say to make Loki understand? Loki would only refuse to listen. But Thor still kept walking down the steps, even though he knew it was useless, because Thor needed his brother and had to try to bring him back.
But when he descended the staircase, his heart dropped sickeningly into his stomach. The dungeon was filled with broken glass, glinting red with torchlight.
Loki was gone.
()()()
Thanks for reading! Please review :)