"I never wanted the throne! I ever only wanted to be your equal."
"You lack conviction…"
"You think you know pain? He'll make you long for something as sweet as pain…"
A searing white pain blinded Loki Laufeyson as the whip racked across his bare back. He clenched his teeth and his hands had been balled into fists.
"Stop…" This was his desperate plea, but the executioner that tortured him seemingly didn't hear it. He brought the black whip down upon Loki's back once more, and Loki yelled out in pain.
"Your 10 for this week are over," he spat. "See you next week, Laufeyson." The executioner whipped his foot just for fun and walked away, leaving Loki lying on the ground of his cell, blood pooling around him.
Loki did believe that he had a right to be punished. There was no doubt in his mind that he deserved some form of punishments for his crimes. But this? This was cruel. Why, why was he treated like this? Like a monster.
Because that's what you are… a little voice in the back of his head murmured. The coherent voice in his head was one of the many qualities Loki had gained when he had come to prison. He had been here for about a year now, having a weekly torture of 10-sometimes 20-whip lashes. He felt his mind slowly, but surely slipping away from him.
The one thing that Loki longed for now, was Death. He was tired of the torture sessions, of the long days and nights of lying here in this wretched cell with barely any food.
Loki shakily got to his feet, blood still falling from his back. He stumbled over to the bars and said in a hoarse voice, "I require… food…" The guard just ignored him, knowing that Loki knew that he had already had his fill for the day. Loki repeated himself once more. When there was no reply, he bit back a scream of frustration and stumbled over to the thin cot that was hanging from the wall. He fell upon it and fainted from loss of blood.
Another year come and gone, and still Loki sat in the wretched cell. Two years had he been there, weekly torture and all, dipping deeper and deeper into insanity with every passing day. On the days he didn't have torture, he would sit on his cot, feeling rueful and wishing he could escape. But he knew he couldn't. He would be trapped here for another year… Unless he died. How Loki just wished to die. Death would be a peace that would lift the burdens from his shoulders. The veracity of this statement was almost too much for Loki to even comprehend. Why must he go through such torture? Why? That was his only question! Why him? Yes, he had paid contravention to Odin's rules, but did that mean he had to spend three years in prison with little food and weekly torture?
Loki finally admitted it to himself; he had successfully fallen into insanity, and there was no way to escape it.
A few weeks later, Loki died in his sleep. His lost and shattered soul floated from his body and to Vahalla, finally away from the grief and torture that Life had burdened him with.
THE END.