Mota Munnin (roughly translated "To Deal with Memory")
Author's Note: This story was inspired by Chimaera Chameleon's One-Shot entitled Nadir . . . so go read that before this one! Word of Warning: This One-Shot contains non-explicit scenes of torture, inspired by a particular scene in Avengers, and by this one simple question: what happened to Loki during the year he went missing in between Thor and the Avengers?
Pain.
Ripping, cutting, burning.
The thousand shards of his mind tried desperately to make sense of it all . . .
All he could do was scream to the black, empty sky.
The Other swept around to where the captive's hands were bound tight.
"If only you would cooperate with my master."
The bound figure screamed inarticulately.
The Other dropped another jagged fingernail into the small pile he had started hours before.
"Answer me. Where. Did. You. Come from?"
". . . Asgard," came the hoarse reply.
"And where is this Asgard?"
". . . Don't . . . know-"
Another scream. Another fingernail added to the ground.
"You do not know? Hmm . . . I am unsure how long it takes for the fingernails of one like you to grow."
He took the last nail, the thumb, between the pincers of the instrument in his hand.
"Care to enlighten me through your pain?"
One last scream.
It was an eternity before the void around them faded to silence.
"Now then, this – Asgard," the Other circled like a vulture around his helpless prey. "You claim it is your home . . . was your home. Why did you leave?"
The stranger paused, head bowed. His ragged breathing echoed in the emptiness around them. He tried to put into words what it looked like to watch his brother, his fa- Odin as he drifted away. He tried to tell them how he had not MEANT to come here where the branches of Yggdrasil couldn't reach. Tried to . . . tried . . .
A frown passed over the Other's visage, and a dagger appeared in his hand, the edges glowing faintly.
"Tell me." He brought the knife close to his prisoner's fingertips.
Still nothing. Bloodied fingers curled away from the approaching danger.
"You try my patience, Asgardian," he growled, hardly to be heard over the crescendo of agony.
". . . I . . . fell . . ." the stranger managed to gasp out when his scream had died and he could breathe again.
"Fell? You expect me to believe that Asgard would allow one of their own to fall in such a manner?"
"Fell . . ." Another nail bed burned and he kept the scream to an agonized groan.
But barely.
"Bifrost . . . gone . . ."
The Other paused on his way to bringing the heated knife to another finger and the captive felt him step away.
"Do not jest with me," the deep voice rolled across the cold, thin air. "Bifrost. What are you saying?"
"I jest . . . I jest not . . ." the prisoner let words pour out of his ravaged throat, keeping the pain at a distance with every utterance. "The Bridge . . . shattered . . . Mjolnir . . .Thor . . . nothing to . . . take him back . . . Midgard . . ."
"Perhaps you need more persuasion to loosen your tongue." The Other moved around the kneeling figure until he could no longer see his robe slithering over the frozen-stone ground. "Shall I give you reason to speak truth?"
Fire across his back.
The prisoner clenched his teeth, strangling yet another scream. The raw burning in his throat was equal to the flaming pain in his back. It felt as if the skin of his back was being slowly ripped apart.
The dagger was removed, leaving a seared, bloody trail in its wake.
The relief was almost worse than the pain itself.
He knew more would come . . .
"Why did you leave Asgard?" a voice purred in his ear.
"Didn't . . . leave . . . betrayed . . . exiled me . . . didn't . . . care . . . hated . . . not like . . . fell . . . forgot . . . forgot who I am . . ."
"Forgot . . . who you are?" the Other laughed, the tip of his blade dragging lightly across the captive's bare shoulder. "Pain is a miracle cure for forgetfulness."
The knife bit, crawled down the exposed arm.
Every movement brought another scream closer to the stranger's lips.
"We know who you are, Frost Giant." Expert hands drove the glowing metal in lines to his forearms. "We had heard rumors long ago the so-called Alfather had taken the bastard son of Laufey into his household."
A sharp nail – claw – pricked just under his chin, forcing his head up.
"Does this aid your memory?"
Hateful, pain-glazed eyes looked into that unseen gaze.
"Or must we give you something that will teach you the real meaning of pain?"
A clawed hand beckoned to the shadows beyond. A deeper shadow moved within the darkness...
"He will talk."
A voice deeper than the empty expanse above, colder than the Void, was the prisoner's rescue.
"He will tell us everything."
With an almost disappointed growl the Other turned from the unseen horror lurking beyond Loki's senses to his master.
"Of course . . ."
Shackles fell slack, the prisoner collapsing with a sharp cry.
Heavy footfalls echoed in the vast silence, the master approaching the victim. A pair of unknown booted feet halted just before the prisoner's eyes –
A sword point at the back of his neck. There were unspoken threats in that gesture, threats that made the Other's tortures pale by comparison.
"Now, Loki of Asgard," a black voice ordered. "Tell me everything you know of your realm . . . of Asgard . . ."
The Tesseract has awakened. It is on a little world . . . a human world. They would wield its power. But OUR ALLY knows its workings as they never will . . ."