Lame A/N: You have all probably heard this story millions of times, but yes, this is my first story for This stuff so forgive me. Also, there is a spoiler, which is the situation that Loki is in. So if you haven't seen the movie yet, I suggest waiting to read, if you still want to by all means go ahead it's not a huge spoiler but still. So yeah, thank you for reading, reviewing and or commenting, plz leave comments or reviews so that I can improve future stories:). have a great day lovelies~
(Sorry, that phrase is overused.)
Loki stared at one of the golden yet transparent wall of his cell, anger and revenge swirled about his mind like a tornado, leaving his mind desolate except for his raging emotions.
He gave a cold and venomous stare to all those who passed by. He sat in one of the chairs his "mother" fought so valiantly against his "father" for. He mumbled
obscenities as he glared at nothing. The object of his anger alas wasn't their, but only a shimmering, gold wall of a cage that let him look at the other scum he was supposedly rounded up with.
Loki sat back up, restless he began to pace around his small and suffocating cell, wishing for the large library with hidden treasures of undiscovered or forgotten knowledge, real food, fit for kings. He wanted to stroll through the large, manicured gardens, full of sweet smells and luscious and delectable fruit that we simply divine on a warm day. He wanted to feel the powers his staff gave him, the rush it gave him in through his veins, filling him up with adrenaline and an almost ecstasy. But out of all things, he wanted his freedom.
Time ticked by on an imaginary clock as he again and again paced around and around his to small cell block, never speeding up or slowing down, but keeping his scornful march in time with the non-existent clock.
Finally, with nothing gained but sore feet and a possible blisters, Loki lied down on his bed, emotionally and physically exhausted he stared at the to white ceiling. The raging tornado in his mind calmed down, now leaving him to sort the destruction and damage that it left in its rage. He wandered among the wreckage of his mind that seemed to define him well. Every memory, idea, thought, moment, word ever received or spoken lay in shambles on the floor of his subconscious, some still flying about above, like birds of prey circling its unlucky victim. The word of conversations, what he said, his real father, Odin, Frigga, Thor and many others seemed to manifest into a heavy and overbearing symphony that seemed to surround him, trapping him, forcing him to listen to them. The more he seemed to listen or even try to shut the voices out, the louder and more prominent they seemed. Loki screamed internally, grasping the sheets as he became a prisoner of his own mind, sweat forming on his brow. He screamed inside his mind again in turmoil over the words, curses, accusations, the yells of the mob converged into Odin, Thor, the avengers and Frigga. But his supposed families voices, there words seemed to stick out the most.
He gave up.
He finally listened to the voices around him, the more he absorbed and listened to what they said, the more the receded, everything slowly got quiet and seemed to empty off somewhere else.
He finally understood what Odin and Thor had said, he realized it all, But it was too late, his rage, anger, frustration, his need for retribution and vengeance poisoned all of it, all of what they said, he poisoned all of it, smearing black ink over the words to protect his so-called 'Purpose'. But he could see it all now, what they meant, his 'families' true intentions. He realized it all.
He was alone, and it was all his fault.