A/N: I am going to seriously regret doing this, I know. I'm terrible at long-form fics, but the inspiration has struck long enough with this one that I'll post it here. Slowly. With many buffer chapters.
This is also my first fic that is the result of a prompt. Credit for the initial idea goes to Anon.
Please review! I honestly have no idea whether or not I like this fic in terms of writing style, but I'll see how you guys receive it.
How easily the best of plans are laid to waste, Loki thinks spitefully, though the thought occurs only fleetingly, the hint of his usual loathing drowned beneath the torrent of absolute terror.
"This is not Asgard," he states. For once he is unashamed of the waver that marks his voice. He is not above pandering to Thor's emotions for this. Though if Thor were anything more than the unthinking idiot he was, he would've needed to hear no waver to detect Loki's distress. The very instance of the God of Mischief stating the obvious would've signified that something was very wrong.
Dark violet galaxies spiral around them, distant stars shimmer and flash like hatefully optimistic reminders that there is warmth beyond this cold collection of rocks suspended in space. The rocks seem made of shadows: movement gains an ambiguous meaning, with forms continually shifting as if watching their every move. Loki knows that they are.
"We are in the realm of the Chitauri," Thor says, and Loki thinks that Thor does not understand at all what this means. Already, he can feel is heart beginning to race, the edges of his vision blurring with hideous fear.
"I thought I was meant to be taken to Asgard," Loki breathes rapidly. "What is this, brother, why have you taken me here?" He catches his own slip half way through the sentence but it is too late. If Thor notices, Loki doesn't care. What is left to care about? Family ties will be meaningless if Thor is about to do what he thinks.
"The Allfather has decided it best for you to finish what you started," Thor says, and looks at Loki as if he were wise. His eyes hold the sorrow of a brother, and the coldness of a king. "The Chitauri will provide as fit a punishment as could be devised in Asgard. This way, we need not worry about tensions between our realms."
It is those naïve blue eyes that set Loki's hands shaking. He feels his face crack into a smile. "You have no idea—" he wants to explain, he wants to cry out and he wants to split Thor's skull in frustration and anger but his hands remain bound. He want describe the tortures they put him through when he fell into their grasp, he wants to tell of the bright red pain, the searing agony, the unrelenting violence and laughter driving him to an insanity so deep even he was capable of recognizing it. He wants to say. His mouth remains shut, lips wavering from the lingering pain of the muzzle.
"You are to remain here, under their control, until they decree your punishment to be fulfilled," says Thor. "I will then retrieve you to be taken back to Asgard. From there you will be forbidden to travel between the realms. Your magic will be bound."
Loki closes his eyes. It is too much. He would rather the latter half of the punishment occur now, plus whatever else the Asgardians can think of, and save him from millennia with the Chitauri—for he knows they will not be satisfied with mere centuries. They will only let him free when there is nothing left.
The shaking has increased to envelope his entire body, the memories of what they did before threaten to cloud his vision. "Brother, please, you don't know—" he begins, but Thor silences him with a look.
"I would cherish that you call me brother, if I did not know it were simply manipulation." He looks sad, so sure of what he sees and hears and never bothering to search deeper, to interpret, and Loki hates him more than he ever has in this moment. He tried to tell him, he tried to tell him…
There are tears slipping down Loki's face. He doesn't know when that happened. His heart is beating faster and faster, as if that would somehow prevent it from freezing over. He doesn't want to accept it. For once, he has no back-up plan. He had done everything perfectly: either he wins Midgard for the Chitauri and never deals with them again, or he is returned to Asgard to face his punishment, terrible but safe from the Chitauri's infinitely more terrifying grasp.
But the Allfather has ruined him. Thor has ruined him. Their damned ignorance, their misguided righteousness… Loki thought he knew what hate was before. He had never intended to find out how much worse it's black tendrils could be.
He can't bring himself to say anymore. He keeps his gaze downward and attempts to control his breathing. His arms strain against their bonds, though not as if he expects to actually be able to break them. His mind is in a loop. He can see no way out of this. He is doomed.
"I am sorry, Loki," Thor says gently, as if he believes his words will be a comfort. "But you have brought this upon yourself."
Loki's vision blanks in anger.
"Good bye, brother."
The roar and flash of the Bifrost is all Loki knows for a second, before the darkness rushes in. The shifting forms manifest themselves into the creatures that have inhabited his nightmares since he arrived on Midgard.
Loki backs into something hard and presses himself against it as the Chitauri slowly advance on him.
"You have failed," one of them hisses.
"And you know what that failure means," whispers another.
"What tortures you have known from us will be multiplied one-hundred-fold. When we are done, there will be nothing left for the Asgardian to retrieve…"
Loki screams.