I own nothing and am simply messing with their lives for the fun of it :)

"There never can be a man so lost as one who is lost in the vast and intricate corridors of his own lonely mind, where none may reach and none may save. - Isaac Asimov, Pebble in the Sky.

Chapter 1

The lone figure sat on the floor, slumped against a stuffed, but tidy bookcase. His head was tipped back in quiet contemplation, ebony locks spilling over his shoulders. He cared not that the heavy volumes poked into his back, it was a comforting reminder that what he treasured most was still within his reach. It was hard to believe that he had once ruled this domain, a vast frontier of unending possibilities and creativity, bursting with an unbridled love for life and adventure. He had walked the corridors of this fortress for the whole of his existence. Each nook and corner was cherished and precious, even more so now that he had so little left.

The God of Mischief lifted his head and regarded his surroundings. How pathetic that he had been reduced to such a dismal existence, forced to inhabit a small corner of his former glory. His eyes traced a path through the shimmering green of his own seiðr, mentally ticking off the paces to where it ended and a grayish purple mist began. The "fog of war" seemed an apt description. While this was nothing as glorious as the battles that Thor and his boorish friends boasted about so often, it was warfare none the less.

Heavy footsteps approached, and the young god sighed in resignation. So soon? The fog began to stir, currents of light erupting and swirling in chaotic eddies. Loki stood lithely to his feet and approached the boundary. He paced the border between green and gray as the fog lapped against his seiðr, probing it for any hint of weakness. His objective was the same as it had been every day since he had arrived at this hellhole - stand his ground. Admittedly, he had not done the most spectacular job so far, but at least he still had ground to hold. That meant he hadn't lost ... yet.

"Godling!" The voice of Thanos boomed in a boisterous, yet false greeting. "What answer do you have for me today?"

"Have you not grown tired of asking questions to which you already know the answer?"Loki asked.

"Your resistance tries my patience," the titan answered. "You are only delaying the inevitable and causing yourself pain."

"Shall we get on with this, then," Loki snapped in irritation. "I have a rather busy day planned."

"If you so wish," Thanos replied, lips stretching in to a cruel grin.

Through the haze, Loki could see several bookshelves, much like the ones he now guarded. At one time, they too had been under his control. The contents of the tomes were not foreign to him - he knew every work intimately. Unfortunately, Thanos could now see them, and thus had begun the daily taunts. The titan ran a thick hand along the bindings of each work before seeming to settle on one and pulled it from the shelf. The large being sank into the cushions of a conjured, overstuffed arm chair and opened the book, causing Loki to snort at the image. The very idea of the God of Death settling down like he was a father reading a bedtime story to his son was ridiculous. The image also brought a pang of regret to the young god. Odin had taken great joy in telling him and Thor such grand stories when they were children, just one of the many things he had never appreciated about the man until recent events had put his life in perspective.

"I think we shall revisit a personal favorite of mine today," the titan said. He began to read, a soft glow lifting from the pages and filling the area with blurred images. Loki recognized them almost immediately.

"No, not again," he whispered under his breath in dread, unsure if he could bear the pain of the memory once more.

A broken Bifrost materialized around him, in full view, but not breaching the safety of his seiðr. Loki hung from its tattered remains as he remembered the moment, only his precarious grip on Gungnir keeping him from plunging to 'certain' death.

"I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!" Loki spoke the words to himself as the raw, festering emotion of the memory coursed through him.

"No, Loki," Odin replied.

The prince watched as his hand slipped from Gungnir. He still did not understand what had ultimately led him to let go. Yes, Odin had been disappointed in him. It had been etched into every line of the Allfather's face. However, Loki was no stranger to his father's - and yes, he could now call him father again - distress at his actions. Why was this time any different? Surely he had not wished for death. His memories of those days were turbulent, choked with emotion. What had began as a mere prank, designed to show Thor's inadequacy for the throne had escalated beyond his control. His father's rejection the final strike that had driven him completely into the madness that had been slowly consuming him.

"I do not understand why you remain loyal to one who is not even your blood ... to one who lied to you ... to one who let you fall," the titan taunted with mock empathy in his voice.

"He didn't let me fall," Loki replied softly. It was the only thing he could refute. The rest was truth. "I let go. There was nothing he could do to stop me."

"Has he or your so-called brother made any attempt to come for you ... to retrieve you?"

"They believe me dead." Loki chuckled without mirth. "How could they know I would survive the void?" He only wished that the fall had killed him, and not left him to a fate worse than death.

"Redeem yourself in his eyes. Prove your worthiness to him," Thanos tempted. "Lead my army, retrieve the Tesseract, and I will give you the throne of Midguard, then Asguard. Odin and Thor will bow at your feet."

"The mad titan and his mad puppet king. We would make such a charming pair," Loki mocked, even though sense told him that provoking the eternal being was not the best course of action. "I am many things - the God of Mischief, the Liesmith, Silvertongue, Chaos, Trickster - but I am not and never will be a traitor. Even I have standards."

"And so your answer ..."

"Is still ... no," Loki answered with unwavering finality.

The titan's face twisted into the rage that always rested below the surface of his otherwise calm and confident countenance. Loki realized that "story time" was over. His eyes slid shut and he began to gather his energies around him to support him in the coming battle.

"So be it, then," Thanos murmured. "I do hope you scream again today ... Your Highness."

Loki opened his eyes, pulling his attention briefly away from his conversation with Thanos. In some ways, his mind was a welcome retreat. Even though haunted by his memories, he had the illusion of comfort. His physical accommodations were much less hospitable. The cell was dark and frigid, echoing the loneliness of space. If not for his Jotun heritage, he would have succumbed to the bitter cold by now. The suffocating stench of sweat, blood, and his own filth filled the air, but he barely noticed anymore. The god had lost count of how many days had passed. He only knew that he longed for death with every fiber of his being. No general liked a two-front war and Loki waged battles both physically and mentally.

The door to his cell slammed open, and he suppressed the tremor than ran through his body. The one Loki knew only as "The Other", entered. "Good morning, Your Highness," the beast mocked, the words hissed out between jagged teeth. What looked like a smile twisted the creature's face as he flaunted the whip he held.

"Oh, a knout, and here I was hoping for something more original," Loki spat with false bravado. He was too well acquainted with this particular knout and its talented wielder. The creature delighted in brutality and was most assuredly looking forward to this.

"I am surprised you still find energy for such insolence," the Other growled. The other guards attached a chain to Loki's shackles and hoisted his hands up, securing them to the side of the wall. "Expect no mercy."

"I never do," Loki shot back, the words cut off as the first lash came down on his back and caused him to stumble on weakened legs. Without his arms to brace his body, his face smashed into the wall. He balanced himself to lean against the icy surface, stifling a whimper as the knout slapped against his flesh again.

"You have stopped healing yourself," the Other noted.

Loki didn't reply. He had made the decision days earlier. A part of him hoped that succumbing to his injuries would hasten his death. The truth was that his body was worn and his energy was replenishing more slowly. There were better uses for his limited seiðr.

The abuse continued, tearing at already raw and broken skin. Loki staggered under the next lashes. His legs gave out and he slumped, his shoulders jarring painfully as he hung from his shackles. There was no reprieve as strike after strike was rained down upon him, and he did finally scream. The Other's orders seemed to be very clear - to beat him unremittingly and weaken him to the point of unconsciousness. As his body approached the point of collapse, Loki closed his eyes and began to whisper his spell, the one for which he had reserved his energy, the one that would assure he maintained some degree of awareness, even as he lost consciousness.

"Heimdall, please see me," he whispered, as he body finally went slack against the chains. It was now time for the true battle to begin.

The fog had become a tempest of swirling grays and flashing violet, battering the barrier Loki had created with his seiðr, the one thing that denied Thanos what he truly wanted - complete, unfettered access to and control of the young god's mind.

"Heimdall cannot see you. No one is coming for you." Thanos gloated. "You are alone ... broken ... weak."

Loki could not deny it. His body was indeed broken - weak from loss of blood and lack of sustenance and water. The ability to fight Thanos mentally came at the expense of true, restful sleep and the blissful embrace of unconsciousness. Since he had forgone healing himself, pain was his constant companion, even as his body lay slack on the cell floor.

"I can heal you and make the pain stop," Thanos said with sudden, uncharacteristic gentleness - a ruse.
"I can order your guards to feed you ... allow you to shower ... show you to a comfortable room. They will give you the treatment befitting a king."

The offer was more tempting every time. If fact, he didn't know how much longer he could sustain his current existence. He willed the barrier to hold against the tempest that was Thanos' mind, but how long could he last? Were Heimdall able to see him, his father would have rescued him by now. If not him, than Thor. Loki still remembered the scream of denial ripped from his brother's throat as he had fallen into the Abyss His mother ... Sigyn ... they would not rest if they knew he lived. But, no one knew he was here. No one had come. He was truly alone and time was his enemy.

The momentary distraction cost him dearly. Loki's eyes widened in surprise as the fog advanced on his seiðr, the green energies retreating a pace or two. He glanced up in time to see the titan smile wickedly.

"You are weak, Prince." Thanos chuckled as he approached the barrier between them and appreciatively ran a thick hand along newly exposed tomes, hovering over one that glowed a faint emerald. Loki choked back a sob. He had tried to so hard to keep Thanos from gaining control over any of his magic, yet there it was on the other side. It was minuscule amount of his core, only the ability to cast simple illusions, but the defeat was disheartening. "It appears I now have more of you. That will give us a new place to start tomorrow."

"Why stop now?" Loki challenged. "Like, you said, I am weak and vulnerable." The young god brushed his fingers across the bookcase behind him. The tomes safely stowed there began to burn with brilliant emerald flames, obviously the most powerful of his magic.

"Since you refuse to heal yourself, I can't risk damaging you too much. I need your body alive." The titan flashed a thin smile. "In time, I will have it all. Since you are unwilling, I will use you to lead my army."

Thanos turned and disappeared into the fog, leaving Loki alone in his own mind. The god crumbled to the ground and wept bitterly. Soon, his mind would fall and Thanos would have a powerful sorcerer as a puppet. He would become an empty shell, a weapon forced to destroy everything he had ever cared about. There was no escape. Unless ...

Loki sat up abruptly. What if he allowed Thanos to take control on his terms? The God of Mischief let out a delirious chuckle at the mad scheme forming in his thoughts - give Thanos control of all but the essential, using all of his remaining energy to protect what was most important. If he gave Thanos the minimum seiðr needed to find the Tesseract, but no more, the titan's focus would be away from him. They would no doubt leave this place, taking him to potential help, even to Asguard. Was he willing to become a prisoner in his own body, unable to go where he pleased, say what he wished, or offer any defense of his actions?

It was risky. He could lose everything. Then again, he would lose everything if all continued as it was. Loki turned and began to arrange what was left of his domain. His eyes slid shut in dread at the realization that he was about to be laid bare, all of his most personal thoughts and memories sacrificed and exposed to Thanos for him to twist and taunt. After carefully putting everything in order, he marked the ground, noting where he must stand firm.